


Value Me

by lokasbarn



Series: "X" Me [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 07:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokasbarn/pseuds/lokasbarn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small snippet in Meg and Cas's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Value Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amorremanet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorremanet/gifts).



“Value City.”

“What was that?”

Cas jerks his head towards the shop front they just passed. “The name of a store. Their logo caught my eye.”

“Oh, it’s ugly, yeah.” Meg taps her fingers on the wheel and tries really hard not lean on her horn. “They need to bring it out of the 80’s.”

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Cas use his patented Head Tilt and Squint Combo to find who she was glaring at, and the only reason she doesn’t tell him off is because of the effort she was making to pinpoint this douche’s car.

“He has the right of way, Meg.”

“This isn’t a runway, no one is here to see him. He can _get out of the way_ ,” she hisses when she is finally able to keep moving.

“Why are we driving if all it does is irritate you?"

“Shouldn’t waste energy for no reason.” Shouldn’t waste Cas’s energy for no reason.  
  
There’s a parent-toddler combo with an overstuffed shopping cart that stops at the edge of the curb to let her go first, and she’s so fucking relieved she could send a prayer of thanks. To which she has no doubt Castiel would reply that no divine forces conspired to make anyone do anything in this parking lot, as there were much more important things to attend to...  
  
And then he’d back peddle and say, “Well, ‘important’ is subjective, but I maintain that none of our brothers had anything to do with this.”  
  
She clears her throat and makes a left into one of the rows. “Keep an eye out for a space.”  
  
“I think there’s one just up ahead. Behind that truck.” It’s actually an SUV and she snorts, remembering how Dean would lay into Cas about cars.  
  
Turns out there is a space, and she pulls in, cuts the engine, and doesn’t move. Cas tenses up minutely but he doesn’t unbuckle his seat belt, doesn’t take the breath she knows he needs (the Breathing Thing started in Memphis, breaths spaced an hour apart, and it’s down to every ten minutes two weeks later). She wants to apologize for something until he opens his mouth and she shuts that feeling down quick.

“I’m getting maudlin in my old age,” she mumbles before throwing her door open.

**_-_-_**

“The blue looks fine, too.”  
  
Meg sees the guy coming up behind her through the camera screen; he’s twice her size and every inch a douchebag. He looks like he wants to barrel through her to get to the fitting room, so she crosses her arms and plants her feet. Castiel keeps glancing at him over her shoulder as he stretches his arms to get a feel for the shirt he’s trying on.  
  
“They’re different styles, just take them both.”  
  
The douchebag bumps into her, clearly expecting her to jump out of the way, and he stumbles when she doesn’t so much as sway.  
  
“Oh, sorry. ‘Scuse me.”  
  
Meg barely leans out of the way. Cas glares at him as he shuffles past while he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt.  
  
“Is it going to pull?”  
  
Cas stretches his arms in a few different directions and pronounces the shirt as sound as any article of clothing could ever be. Good, because they’ve been here a few hours and while Meg enjoys watching Cas studiously, even reverently pick out stuff to try on, they better go before she sets this place on fire.  
  
“How are we paying?” Thank the calendar it’s Wednesday and 12:30 in the afternoon, because they’re mostly alone. His voice echoes a little, bounces off of the mirrors and into the open space of the fitting room corridor.  
  
“With neopoints. Go change so we can leave.”  
  
Cas watches her for a moment. She’s leaning against the wall, makes a motion for him to get moving, and he does.  
  
Meg’s skin itches with the need to say something. It feels like there are words missing between the two of them lately, which is weird. Castiel isn’t a big talker and Meg usually saves anything she has to say until she’s certain it’ll mean something, otherwise it’s a joke. The sudden need to vent, to explain, is new and she isn’t sure what it means yet.  
  
The sound of cloth rustling reaches her and she pushes off the wall to amble among the racks until he comes out to meet her.

 

_-_-_

“You don’t—crap.” Meg pulls a strand of hair out of her mouth, brushing it back altogether. It’s too goddamned windy here.

 

They never talked about ditching their old clothes. It was assumed though, when Cas had folded the suit last night, taking extra care to make sure the collars on both the shirt and the suit were sharp. He had laid the tie on top like an exclamation point. A tangible symbolic end, maybe, to the last few years. Meg had shrugged and stripped, tossing her stuff onto the little table in their room before pulling on a new pair of leggings. Shiny new boots, with a less than practical heel. A shirt that wasn’t falling apart at the seams.  
  
She’s keeping her jacket though. There isn’t a power in the universe that could make her let that thing go. So, when they pull into the lot and she had to remind Castiel that he was still wearing his trench coat, he yanked it off like it would burn him. He was now clutching it like he wants to fuse with it before they reach the doors.  
  
“Why are you giving it away? It’s a good coat.”  
  
“It’s hardly practical. I should have something more suited to going from cold to colder now that the weather can affect me.”  
  
If it rains his hair doesn’t spring back, his cheeks have stayed pink and dry for the last few days, and she’s pretty sure he’s coughed once or twice. What he needs is a scarf, and a hoodie, and maybe a hat. The doors slide open just before they reach them and Cas stumbles a bit.  
  
“You could still keep it.”  
  
He doesn’t acknowledge her; instead he steps up to the conveyor belt and drops his little, painstakingly folded pile onto it with less ceremony than she expected. The coat he holds on to for a split second longer, like maybe it really did stick to his hand and he can’t shake it free. Then he practically throws it down, backing away and sidestepping her in his rush to escape.  
  
Meg has half a mind to salvage the coat, but she just rubs a hand over her face and leaves her stuff too, and walks out.

_-_-_

When the shadow of the velociraptor shows up on the wall, that’s when Cas decides to start talking again. Meg is going to smother him, because at this rate he is going to yap through every pivotal life-changing scene, and there won’t be a point to his humanity.  
  
“What does it take for you to get drunk?”  
  
“Way too much.”  
  
“I once drank an entire liquor store,” Cas whispers. They’re sharing a bed because, despite being a decent chain motel, there’s still a noticeable chill in their room. They couldn’t find where it was coming from, though once they ascertained it wasn’t of supernatural origin, snuggling for warmth seemed like the easiest fix. Eventually Castiel will nod off and they’ll end up sharing a bed, again.  
  
What is this, the fourth time in a row?  
  
“That is not a velociraptor.”  
  
“You been dicking around on wikipedia?”  
  
Cas frowns at her and steals her can of Coke to take a sip. “No, and I don’t think even the most tangential of internet searches would bring me to _Jurassic Park_ trivia.”  
  
Meg shushes him and says if he doesn’t pay absolute attention he’s going to miss one of the most important moments in cinematic history, and then he can’t be friends with her. There will only be one first time, and he needs to experience this.  
  
“This is rid—”  
  
“I swear to God, Castiel, if you don’t shut the fuck up...”  
  
Mercifully, Cas goes quiet just as the raptors start their hide and seek game. He missed the part with the T. Rex and she might never forgive him for that, then he missed the part with the raptors actually opening the kitchen. There’s only so much blasphemy she can stand.  
  
Until, of course, Cas shuffles down the bed (luckily for him, he’s giving the movie his full attention or it would be the end of him) so he can lay his head in her lap. If Meg decides to use him like a T.V. tray and an armrest, it’s too bad. He doesn’t even flinch when the cold soda can touches the skin behind his ear.

_-_-_

“You can’t miss what you never knew.”  
  
“I want to say I’m sorry you never got to see it, but it isn’t the best of places.”  
  
Meg chuckles and digs her chin into the top of Cas’s head. It’s pitch black in their room with the heavy curtains blocking out the golden glow of the street lamp, but she can still make out most of Cas’s profile. It’s a damn good face.  
  
“You’re not homesick anymore?”  
  
“I’ve learned ‘home’ doesn’t always mean the place you come from.”  
  
She mumbles into his ear, because he’s starting to fall asleep, that he’s a giant sap. Whispers that she’s figured out that home is where you can plant your feet, where you feel safe. A cause that doesn’t betray you.  
  
“That would make my home with you.”  
  
Cas’s hair is soft; now it’s her turn to scoot down so she can press her forehead to the nape of his neck. His sleep t-shirt, a thin heather-grey thing emblazoned with the Dunkin Donuts logo, smells like his bodywash. She likes the feel of the baby fine hairs on one part of her face and the cloth on another.  
  
“Don’t start.”  
  
“You never let me finish anyway.”  
  
Meg prefers actions to speeches, putting things into effect instead of beating around the bush. Cas never earned her ire because she could see herself in him. Loyal to a father that loves you so much he can hardly stand to be around you. What they both need, she figures, is less empty words. So she has to make these count.  
  
“Go to sleep, kid. You’ll still be here in the morning.”  
  
She hopes that wasn’t too coded in Meg-speak.  
  
“I’m older than you,” he huffs. The tension starts to go out of his muscles though, so it worked.  
  
“Is that how you know so much about dinosaurs?”  
  
“Yes. I was inconsolable for—” he yawns, “for days. When they all left.”  
  
“Like they went on vacation?”  
  
“Exactly, Meg.”  
  
For a hot minute she thinks he might actually be out for the night, so she settles in for another sleepless six hours of uncomfortable self-reflection. His scratchy whisper floats into the silence before she can really tune everything out.  
  
“I don’t tell anyone that you’re nice, you know.”  
  
“Good? It’s bad enough you go to school every day with your hair combed and your clothes neat. People are going to talk.”  
  
She senses he’s going to try and flip over so they can be face to face, but doesn’t move an inch. Her hand grazes along his side until it’s on his lower back, and they’re so close together their noses are slotted against each other. Cas’s eyes are shut and she’s grateful for that. Just because it isn’t divinely powered doesn’t mean that stare is any less effective.  
  
“I’m glad you picked me up when you did.” Castiel can taste her skin every time his lips move. He wonders when the sulfur stopped bothering him, indeed, had the opposite effect.  
  
“No one should be forced to live with Dean for too long. You would have started thinking The Next Generation is better than Deep Space Nine.”  
  
Does Meg still feel cleaner in his presence? Maybe he’s too diluted to have much effect anymore. It occurs to Cas that there might come a day when he’ll have to say goodbye to her permanently, and it makes him shiver.  
  
“Is the AC too high again?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Meg wishes they were better with words. For like, ten seconds, before reminding herself that they don’t always need them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was reading some fic the other day and I realized I've never declared any of my characters asexual in fic-canon, which is troubling I'm not doing it here either, despite my headcanon (for my own fic?) that Cas is asexual and Meg is not. As for their relationship, whether it's platonic or romantic, I'm happy for you to assume for yourselves.
> 
> A very deep thanks to Craze for betaing this so quickly and thoroughly. uwu


End file.
